Wicked
by Alicia of the Temptation
Summary: Damon had lived the better part of three lifetimes. He knew, as a man and a vampire, when some things and some people were untouchable. Which made his attraction to Jeremy Gilbert frustratingly passionate.
1. Attraction

Author: Alicia of the Temptation.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, materials, etc, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is, in no way, associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title: Wicked.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries, (Television Series.)

Summary: There was a part of him, which would whisper in his ear every dirty thought, every psychotic idea. It hadn't given him any for the past decade; but when Jeremy entered his life, the voice in Damon's head spoke loud and clear. "I want _him_."

Word Count: 1, 724.

Warnings: AU, Slash, Heavy Age Difference, and Ephebophilia.

* * *

One

* * *

There would always be a part of him wanting to do more than rebel, more than break out of societal norms. There would always be a part of him which enjoyed hearing the pained screams of his victims as he ripped out their limbs and organs, the gurgle-gasp of their lungs taking their last breath. Oh, would he grin a very devilish grin as he put his victims on display, always in public for his darling brother to find.

He treated his victims rather fairly, if they were fair folk. The naïve men and women would only have their blood drained, their corpse set aside under a full tree or sturdy bench, positioned as if asleep. There would be no trace of an attack, because most of them wouldn't have been. The women would have bruised lips from kissing him, the men would have bruised hips from taking him. And if Damon felt like killing them after sex, well, at least their last moments were pleasurable.

Oh, but did he treat the evil humans cruelly. In his mind, it was justification. Punishment. That first evil-doer, he found in New York in 1895. Damon had been strolling the streets, doing his best to avoid Stefan, when he heard the screams coming from an alley.

Damon was a murderer, preferred a bit of a torture, loved the power taking another life gave him. But, he was a gentlemen first and foremost. And if a woman refused him, even after all his charm and wit, he would leave her alone.

Which was why that first murder was justified. The woman had run off as soon as Damon took a hold of the man, a clean-cut young man from a high class family. Everyone loved to blame the vagabond, when it was truly the rich man who was responsible. Damon had pinned the man, well into his twenties, against the wall.

"When a woman says no," the vampire said as the man tried to fight against him. "She means no, and nothing else."

That murder was quick. A flick of his wrist, a snap of the would-be rapist's neck. The following morning, Damon had a newspaper in his hand with the story: "Vigilante on the loose: Man saves woman from attack, kills criminal."

As evil as Stefan would like to make him out to be, Damon truly wasn't.

At least, it was what he told himself.

He had his moments where he would save would-be victims from their attackers: a woman from a robbery, a boy from his drunken father, a man from the vision of speeding car. And he didn't need a thank you, even if he did like the attention the newspapers gave him.

He wanted to be good, even if he played the bad boy.

So that first crime, the only crime he considered, almost made him go insane.

That first boy was sixteen, the same age Jeremy was now. Pretty, with a slim figure, bobbed, brown hair and a bright red mouth. Damon had seen that boy walking the streets of Los Angeles in 1904, heeled boots and smooth clothes. And felt something stir in him. _Attraction_, his brain rationalized. _You're attracted to him._

And Damon was. The vampire found beauty in the boy's smooth, broad shoulders, brightness in the kid's big grin and eyes. He felt hunger rise in the pit of his stomach when he saw that boy walk down the street with a high head and a full pocket. And bright red, bruised lips.

_That boy is a paid whore_, one part of his mind rationalized. _A broad. A harlot. Nothing to be looked at._

_But so lovely, _that wicked part of him argued. _So sweet. I need to hear him scream._

On a Sunday afternoon, Damon approached that boy – the boy named Demeter, the boy who was hardly godly at any definition of the word – and asked for a price.

Demeter, with smooth skin and glowing, brown eyes, looked Damon up and down, and grinned. "For you, darling, one hundred."

Damon had watched Demeter for weeks. He knew the boy liked to wage high. The older the man, the higher the price. Men of thirty would pay three hundred, men of fifty would pay almost seven hundred. And if the man was older and _married_, they would pay thousands. Anything to get their hands on Demeter.

Damon paid the one hundred up front, and had his wicked way with Demeter. Loved the feel of the boy's smooth shoulders, supple belly, full thighs. Loved the long moans and high whimpers. Loved the boy's leaking cock and hot hole.

When the time passed and the two were well sated, Damon gave Demeter two hundred more. At this, the boy-whore rose an eyebrow. "More?"

"Just a question," the vampire whispered.

"Anything, sweetie," Demeter grinned, folding his payment into his wallet.

"How old are you?"

Demeter grinned, but Damon knew a hollow smile when he saw one. "Nineteen."

Damon leaned in and locked eyes with the working man, "Now, _how old are you_?"

"Sixteen," the brunet answered, compelled.

The vampire knew, right there as Demeter left, he had a type.

The voice in his head would always be there, always watching. While Damon tried to drown it out with liquor in the fifties, marijuana in the sixties, ecstasy in the seventies, cocaine in the eighties, and heroin in the nineties, all it took was a glance at the right boy, the right time, the right moment, and Damon was lost again.

Damon tried to understand why one part of him would only charm women from twenty to as old as forty, yet the ones who drove him wild were boys as young as fifteen, men as young as twenty. Damon was almost _one hundred and sixty four_ when he finally found Jeremy.

Jeremy was sixteen, boyish in grin and gait. Defiant til the end, the perfect mixture of Katherine and every boy-harlot the vampire had ever come across. Thick hair, bright eyes, pale skin, and young, so young. Damon tried to focus on Elena, tried to focus on the rivalry he had with Stefan, the friendship he had with Sage. But, his thoughts would always go to Jeremy.

That night, a cool night in September, when Jeremy leaned in and kissed Damon flat on the mouth, the vampire couldn't take it anymore.

* * *

_You could have him, _that voice would whisper. _Take him. He could be yours._

"He should decide that," Damon would whisper, shake his head. "It's _Jeremy_'s choice."

_Nothing you can't manipulate._

"No," the vampire rubbed his temples. "No. I'm not going to make him another victim."

"Who says I was a victim?"

Damon, wild eyed and hungry – _so _hungry – looked up to see Jeremy waiting, back pressed against the closed door. Damon heard the click of the lock, and he looked up at the boy.

God, what a beautiful boy. It wasn't just the boy's hazy eyes and supple hands, it was everything Jeremy was. The naïve little brother, the quiet friend, the handy ally, the strong hunter, the loud adult. Everything.

"Who says I wouldn't want to be with you?" Jeremy soothed, walking towards Damon. "Who says I wouldn't want to do anything with you?"

Damon watched as Jeremy plopped down – all arms and legs – next to him on the mattress. "After all the fighting, all the killing, all the hard work, you expect me not to want something I wouldn't have to suffer for?"

Damon didn't stop Jeremy from kissing him again, and again, and again. Didn't stop Jeremy from pushing him into the mattress and straddling his hips. And his heart began pounding as he felt Jeremy's lips – smooth and pliant lips – move against his. And Damon returned those movements, the heated press of their lips, the incredible grind of their mouths. His hands slid up Jeremy's thighs, hips, sides and combing into the boy's hair. He needed to keep them there.

Another kiss before Jeremy separated their mouths. "Damon,..." the boy whimpered.

Damon felt that hunger rise and explode throughout his body. Felt that hunger come alive in his eyes and his fangs, and used the hot strength it gave him to maneuver over Jeremy, move the boy under him. Damon couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, shouldn't stop. He kissed, and bit, and licked into the boy's mouth. Ripped off Jeremy's shirt and pressed against the boy's belly, pinched the boy's nipples, listened with a wicked, wicked grin as Jeremy moaned, loud and clear.

_This is wrong_, his brain – his human instincts – argued.

_But so, so right,_ his vampiric spirit stated.

Damon could account the young men he's had throughout his long existence. The boy-harlot, Demeter. The farmhand, Joseph. The Italian immigrant, Giovanni. The heir, Michael. All of them smooth skinned, long limbed, strong and loud, and free-spirited. Everything Jeremy was. But, Jeremy was so much better.

* * *

When the sun rose the next morning, Damon's room smelled of sweat and sex. His bedside lamp was shattered on the floor, his bedsheets crumpled and messy, ripped and covered in drying come. Damon was sated and full – full of blood, full of satisfaction, and every craving he's ever had was gone. Whether it was temporary or permanent, he wasn't sure.

"Hmm."

Damon looked down at Jeremy, still in deep sleep. Hair curling at the ends, cheeks flushed, lips full and bruised, and his arms wrapped around Damon's waist. Damon leaned in and kissed the boy's head, listening as Jeremy slowly came into the waking world.

"Morning," the boy murmured before kissing Damon's jaw.

"Good morning," the vampire replied.

He held on a little tighter to Jeremy, listened as the boy's heart relaxed as he returned to slumber. And that hunger returned soon enough. That need to kiss, and touch, and fuck and take. Damon woke Jeremy as he moved the boy below him. Moved in to kiss him, held onto the boy's hand while his other hand prepped the boy for another round.

That voice was gone for a while, and for that time, for the moments Damon just held onto Jeremy's hand, he felt at peace.


	2. Dream

Author: Alicia of the Temptation.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, materials, etc, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is, in no way, associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title: Wicked.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries, (Television Series.)

Summary: His relationship with Damon Salvatore felt like a dream. A dream within a dream, within a dream.

Word Count: 510.

Warnings: AU, Slash, and Literary and Biblical References.

* * *

Two

* * *

His relationship with Damon Salvatore felt like a dream. A dream within a dream, within a dream. While Damon was his usual self around all others – loquacious, scheming, crude – around Jeremy, he was almost someone else. Jeremy never worried if Damon's hands would bruise his skin, and would only feel how soft and sure they were against his hips. He would never fear the vampire's upcoming mouth, for the only redness seen on his body would be his bruised, swollen lips.

At night, only at night, would Jeremy see who the vampire really was. As a friend, Damon would listen to every complaint, every fear, every love Jeremy had. Listen for hours on end and only comment once in a while. As a companion, the vampire would hold onto the boy's hand and remain by his side. Oh, but as a lover. As a lover, Jeremy's heart ached and his hands reached. And there would be Damon, always holding onto his hand – white against white hand.

"A pilgrim's kiss,..." the vampire would murmur.

And no one – no soul: mortal, immortal, or undead – would be witness to their first kiss.

As odd, as strange, as wondrously delirious as it sounded, Jeremy preferred it. He grew tired of the bad girls, the girls with hardly a toe on the ground. The women who always wanted to be bad, and the men who always did their worse to boys like him. Damon was a blessing in disguise, an angel of mercy, rather than death.

"Oh, how you have fallen from Heaven," he breathed, truth on tongue, "morning star. Son of the Dawn."

Lucifer was he. Damon. Beautiful and wretched, and powerful. But, he did not tempt Jeremy with the apple – for he need it not.

His kiss was temptation enough.

Everything Damon was – cold, powerful, passionate – flew into a kiss during midnight, when Jeremy was left alone and waiting. A kiss upon a hungry mouth, a kiss upon a milky neck, upon pebbled nipples and smooth belly. A kiss upon quivering thighs and strong hips. A kiss upon a leaking cock and flushed hole. Jeremy was gone with that kiss; a gasping, whimpering pathetic mess for that kiss.

Morning light would make their relationship polite. Hold hands at sunrise, smile at each other as Damon dropped the boy off at Mystic High, smile again as he picked Jeremy up. Tip the boy-bartender with a kiss rather than a dollar. Have Elena roll her eyes at their long embraces, Caroline coo as Jeremy kissed the tip of Damon's nose, Stefan, Matt and Tyler gag as the eldest Salvatore boasted about his adventures with the Gilbert boy-hunter.

But when night fell, Jeremy would lie against Damon's bed, and have Damon against him. Have their lips touch, not like pilgrim's, but like Gods. Whimpering, moaning, gasping Gods as the vampire fucked and moved into Jeremy.

A dream, within a dream, within a dream of experiences and emotions. And Jeremy was more than happy with that.


	3. Frustratingly Passionate

Author: Alicia of the Temptation.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, materials, etc, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is, in no way, associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title: Wicked.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries, (TV.)

Summary: Damon had lived the better part of three lifetimes. He knew, as a man and a vampire, when some things and some people were untouchable. Which made his attraction to Jeremy Gilbert frustratingly passionate.

Word Count: 960.

Warnings: Slash, Age Difference Stressed, Faunlet!Jeremy.

Notes: This was inspired by _Lolita_, by Vladimir Nabokov. And, I'm proud and exasperated by it all at once.

* * *

Three

* * *

Damon Salvatore wouldn't call himself the bad brother, the do-no-good-er. He considered himself playful and sinful, but was, at the most, a gentleman. He knew his limits, and knew when it was time to stop playing his favorite game of cat and mouse. Damon was twenty-four-years-old when he transitioned into vampirism, and had lived the better part of three lifetimes. He knew, as a man and a vampire, when some things and some people were untouchable.

Which made his attraction to Jeremy Gilbert frustratingly passionate.

Jeremy was fifteen-years-old, the younger brother of his brother's girlfriend and the ward of his good friend; he was a boy who flew into the supernatural head-first, and had no preservation instinct to save his life. Which made him a pain in the ass. But, _God_, was the boy beautiful.

Elena had her womanly charms. She was elegant and pretty in ways Katherine was, but so much softer and sweeter. But, Jeremy was something else. Long, skinny limbs and broad shoulders, pale skin and bitten lips, messy hair and charcoal-stained fingers. Childish and grown all at once. And Damon wanted him. Oh, did he want him.

To go every other night to the Gilbert home, laugh with Alaric, smile charmingly at Jenna, would be a bore enough if it weren't for Jeremy. The boy was pleasant company, easier to talk with than his aunt, easier to be with than his sister or Stefan. And it was so damn frustrating to have such easy conversations with such a faunlet. Damon hardly ever saw attraction towards the young ones. He would see how pretty Caroline was when she smiled, or how entrancing Matt's eyes would be, but it would be it. It would be that simple.

Nothing was simple when it came to a Gilbert.

To see Jeremy at his home was all fine and well. The boy was normally lazy enough to not change his clothes after school, hands inked with paint and his scent diluted with the aromas of his schoolmates. Today, of all the days, when Damon hadn't a fresh meal of blood, was the day Jeremy cleaned up.

Drying, curling hair and flushed cheeks had driven him mad. But his scent, oh his scent, fresh and sweet, and the purest scent Damon had smelled. Oh, if this boy knew what he did to this ageless vampire.

With a smirk upon his fair face and his shoulder against the door frame, Jeremy knew _exactly_ what he did to the vampire.

"Alaric and Jenna are out of their usual date," he said.

"And Stefan and Elena?"

"Also out," Jeremy replied, moving back to re-enter his home. "On a date."

"What of Matt or Tyler?" Damon begged. _Please, anyone. Anyone to keep me from going mad._

"Matt has a shift at the Grill tonight," Jeremy answered, walking into the kitchen. "And Tyler is on a date with Caroline. Bonnie is rearranging her grimoire, if you're wondering." He stopped near the kitchen island, head turned back and hair touching his shoulder. "It's just you and me tonight, Damon."

_May God help me_.

He sat stiffly on the bar stool at the kitchen island, watched as Jeremy poured the two a drink of wine in plain glasses. The boy handed the vampire his drink and sipped at his own, but Damon couldn't help but notice how the wine painted Jeremy's lips a pale red. "Let's get right to the chase, shall we, Damon?" Jeremy said.

"I beg your pardon?"

The boy gave Damon a steely look, leaning forward to expose the pale column of his neck. He wouldn't admit it, but Damon peeked at the collection of veins under his skin before looking into Jeremy's eyes.

"I know very well how you feel towards me," he said. "I've known for quite some time."

"Jeremy-"

"I'm not a complete fool," the boy hissed. "I see how you look at me. And Alaric and Jenna can try to keep you away from me, but I always find a way." Jeremy tilted his head and leaned in even closer. "I always find a way to take what I want."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan on conquering me, Little Gilbert?"

He turned his head away from the boy, feeling his anger bubble at the pit of his stomach. What was wrong with him? What was he doing? This was a child. A mere boy. A speck in Damon's time line. Just a pretty, little boy.

"Oh, I'm more than a pretty face," Jeremy laughed. "And if I am? So what? I'm a pretty boy who wants _you_; not just for an hour or a night. I want to be able to spend more than that long with you."

"God, _damn _it," Damon growled, his hands reaching out to grab onto the collar of Jeremy's shirt. He pulled the boy close, onto his lap and the boy's wine-stained mouth towards his mouth. And Jeremy was quick to yield, lips parted open by Damon's hot tongue – and the kiss was sweet, so sweet, and everything Damon had expected it to be.

With him, underneath him, Jeremy yielded so perfectly. With his fingers clawing down Damon's back as they kissed and kissed, and kissed. And it was so sweet and so passionate, the slip and dance of their lips.

Damon pulled back, even when that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Jenna and Alaric will be home soon."

Jeremy, bruised lips, flushed cheeks, messy hair, grinned a lazy grin. "Then, let's take this upstairs,..."

Damon didn't fight the boy as he took the vampire upstairs.


	4. Mercy

Author: Alicia of The Temptation.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, materials, etc, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is, in no way, associated with the owners, creators, or producers of this, or any, media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, whatsoever.

Title: Wicked.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries, (Television Series.)

Summary: Damon liked his little shows, after all. And Jeremy was the audience he captivated.

Word Count: 1, 311.

Warnings: AU, Male Slash, and Moderate to Graphic Sexual Content.

Notes: TAKE NOTE OF THE THIRD WARNING. Things get very naughty, quickly, in this lovely ficlet. If you are not of age to read adult content, please refrain from reading and return to other, safer revenues and stories. TAKE NOTE OF THE THIRD WARNING.

An anonymous reviewer mentioned I was fond of writing ficlets, and I am. I don't believe I have the capacity, as of yet, to write a full-fledged fan-fiction. Someday, I might, so I'll keep my hopes up.

Enjoy the new addition!

* * *

Wicked

Four

Mercy

* * *

"I don't know what you do

But you do it well

I'm under your spell."

Duffy － _Mercy_, (2008.)

* * *

_Damon Salvatore was on his knees._ Him, a centuries-old vampire, whose killed more people than he can count on all ten fingers and all ten toes. Him, strong, arrogant Damon Salvatore, was on his knees before a common child. At least, Damon still saw Jeremy － in some ways － as a child.

But, the young man was no longer a child. He sat upon one of the parlor chairs, legs crossed and his open palm holding his chin. Jeremy's face said he was bored, even with the display of a shirtless and damp-haired Damon before him. But his eyes － cloudy brown eyes － were full of amusement and heavy with arousal. It wasn't long before Jeremy couldn't hold his expression anymore.

"Is there something you want, Damon?" Jeremy purred.

Damon could feel his fangs itching to come out, blood already flowing to his eyes, among other places in his body. He leaned towards Jeremy, the boy's legs uncrossing and falling wide open.

"Yes, Jeremy," Damon murmured. "You."

That sentence brought a coy smile onto Jeremy's pale face.

"Then, prove it," Jeremy said. "Show me you want me."

This boy was going to be the death of him. Damon never had to get down on his knees for _anyone_ in his almost two hundred years of existing. Not for Sage, or Will, or Lexi, or Enzo. He didn't even beg from Katherine. No. He played, and acted, and lied, and sighed. But, never once, did he beg.

Here he was now, almost two hundred years later, with an aching heart and an even more painful hard-on for the boy he called _Little Gilbert_.

_But, he's not that little, is he? _A part of him said as he reached out to unbutton Jeremy's jeans.

Damon was violent in the way he cared for Stefan, overly protective towards Elena and Bonnie, and only marginally so towards Caroline. (Mostly because he knew Caroline will _literally_ chew him a new one if he tried to protect her.) In public, he showed his care and love to Jeremy in an almost standoffish way － pats on the back, whispers in his ears, maybe a kiss or two here and there.

But in private, right now, Damon was － had to be, needed to be － very open.

He pulled the boy's cock gently, eyes looking up to lock with Jeremy's, watching as the smile widened into a grin. There was one particular expression Damon craved, and he'll work the boy up to it, if he had to.

Long fingers lightly touched the tip of Jeremy's cock, moving down to feel the warmth settling underneath the skin. He had to move softly, easily, make the brunet go insane.

This wasn't a game. This was a show. For both parties.

Damon lowered his right hand down Jeremy's cock, the other keeping his knee to the side. He still kept his eyes locked on Jeremy's face, and watched as the boy's composed face began to fall apart. A soft rub here made Jeremy's eyes close, and lowering his hand to cup his balls made him bite his lower lip until it turned white. Reversing the trail of his hand made Jeremy's head fall back.

"What more do you want me to do?" Damon asked, almost airily. "Want me to touch you harder? With both hands? With my mouth?"

He leaned in even closer, his breath cool on Jeremy's now steadily leaking cock. "Want me to suck you off, _Jer_?"

"God!" Jeremy's nails clawed into the arms of the chair he was seated in. He was supposed to be in control. He was supposed to be one to make Damon beg and plead to touch him. Not the other way around. The thought made him grin again. Everyone knew, eventually, he'd melt in Damon's hands.

"Yes," Jeremy responded. "Suck me, _Day_."

The couple had a tendency to only use their chosen nicknames as dirty talk.

Damon wasn't quick to take the boy's cock, however. He merely flashed a smile － To Jeremy? To himself? He wasn't sure － before leaning in and breathing a little more coolness onto the boy. He moved his head to the side, and licked the warm tip as lightly as he could.

A tease to the leaking head, and a longer lick up his length, and Damon knew Jeremy was already on his way to falling apart. Jeremy was only eighteen, and barely experienced in any sexual encounter outside of crude penetration. He had no idea what the extremely crafty vampire had in store for him.

As soon as Damon moved back, he moved forward to take in Jeremy's leaking, warm cock into his mouth. He found pleasure in the way Jeremy twitched forward, mouth parting open with breathy moan. Found pleasure in the way he could hear the brunet's nails digging into the chair's fabric, in the way his toes curled against the wooden floor and in how quickly his heart began to pump.

Sucking Jeremy off wasn't something he normally did. _Damon_ was normally the one being sucked off. But, Jeremy was feeling rather down for weeks. Angry, moody, almost depressed. A little blow-job wouldn't be enough to remove those emotions, but it would be enough of a distraction.

Damon bobbed his head carefully, already feeling his body responding to Jeremy's pleasure. He could never react as easily as Jeremy did, but he prided himself on his control.

Jeremy, however, was falling apart more and more.

His breaths were becoming shaky, and the boy snaked a hand from their hold on the arms of the chair to grab onto Damon's curling black hair. A light tug was enough of a signal to make Damon move more － move his head back and trail his tongue, or lick just quick enough to have Jeremy's hold on his hair tighten.

It wasn't long before Jeremy's gasping mouth formed a perfect O shape, and both of his hands clawed into Damon's hair, pulling almost too roughly. But, Damon found pleasure in the roughness; almost grinned if it weren't for the hot, leaking cock in his mouth.

"_Oh_," Jeremy breathed out. "Day. Damon. Damon!"

It wasn't long before Jeremy came. And along did the rest.

Damon, as much as he loved Jeremy and loved watching him fall apart, wasn't really quite fond of the taste. Still, he swallowed like he knew the boy would like before pulling back, tongue trailing to lick one last time on the head of Jeremy's spent cock before he sat back on his haunches.

Jeremy was a _wreck_. The hair at his temples was curled with light sweat. His cheeks, neck and chest were flushed. His lips were raw and red from his own teeth biting at them. His hands were shaky as he tried to relaxed them. Jeremy lifted his head to look at Damon. His eyes were still hazy, and his lashes were damp with unshed tears.

"And now," Damon said with a simple smile. "I have you."

"You've always had me, Damon," Jeremy whispered.

"And I always will."

_Damon liked his little shows, after all. And Jeremy was the audience he captivated._


End file.
